As it turned out, Cailean was right. The wind continued to push the clouds away from them and by the time they reached Hemkirk, they hung far out over the sea, looking black and angry. Cailean didn’t envy any fishermen who would be caught out in that when the rain hit.
But the clouds above them began to break up, letting through shafts of intermittent sunlight as they rode down the hill towards where Hemkirk nestled along the shore in the distance. There was not much to the settlement. A deep natural harbor meant larger fishing vessels could dock here but the poor soil and sparse grass on this side of the island made it difficult to grow crops or graze livestock. As a result, the village was a fishing station and little else, and the few families who lived here traded their fish for the supplies they needed from elsewhere.
There were around ten houses, built of stone and turf to better endure the weather on this side of the island, as well as a wooden chapel with a crude cross attached to its roof. The people of Hemkirk had been some of Sister Beatrice’s earliest converts and she slogged over here each Sunday to read mass.
Many of the fishing boats, which would normally be out on thewaves at this hour, were still bobbing gently in the harbor and the only signs of life they saw was a sheepdog lying on the wharf with a bone between its front paws, gnawing hungrily.
The dog spotted them riding down the winding path and sprang to its feet, barking madly. The racket brought a few villagers out of their houses—mostly women Cailean noticed—and they watched him and Rose approach with wary expressions on their faces.
When they reached the group, Cailean pulled Arrow to a halt and looked around at the rag-tag group. There were a few younger children and older males but Cailean didn’t see many youths or working-age men. Were they all out on the fishing boats? But if so, why were so many of the boats still in port?
He dismounted in order to seem less intimidating, Rose following his example. “Greetings,” he said to the group. “Who speaks for this village?”
The villagers glanced among themselves before an old woman pushed her way to the front. She had long gray hair in two plaits in the Norse style and the weathered, leathery skin of someone who spent most of their time out of doors.
“I do. My name is Agnes. My husband was the headman of this village. Welcome to Hemkirk, Laird MacNeil.” She looked him up and down with an appraising expression before her gaze flicked to Rose. “What can we do for ye?”
Her tone wasn’t exactly suspicious, but it wasn’t particularly welcoming either. The folks on this side of the island were notoriously independent and didn’t take kindly to anyone poking their noses into their business. But he was still their laird and they were still his responsibility.
“We’ve coming looking for information,” he said. “Information that might help us in the fight against the sickness.” He indicated for Rose to step up beside him. “Rose here is a healer and is trying to track the source of the sickness.”
Rose smiled around at them. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Rose. Rose MacFinnan.”
Her name had an instant effect on the crowd. A collective gasp went up and Cailean heard whispers of, “A spellweaver! Here! God be praised!”
They swarmed forward, surrounding him and Rose, all talking at once, all firing stories of the sickness at Rose and asking a hundred questions besides.
“Wait!” Rose cried. “One at a time!” But her voice was drowned out in the clamor.
“Quiet!” Cailean bellowed. The crowd fell silent and he addressed Agnes in a quieter voice. “Is there somewhere we can go to discuss this?”
The old woman nodded. “Aye. Follow me, my laird.” She eyed the rest of the crowd. “And the lot of ye will wait outside while I speak to the laird and the spellweaver.”
She led them through the village, the crowd following behind, until they reached a stone house with a turf roof. It was slightly bigger than the rest, as befit the headman of a village. The door was low and Cailean had to duck as he followed Agnes inside.
Within, it was more homey than Cailean had expected, with a meticulously swept flagstone floor, thick hangings softening the stone walls, pots and pans and bunches of herbs hanging from the ceiling, and a fire burning merrily in the hearth. Thick beams held up a ceiling, so low that Cailen had to stoop. Above the hearth hung a wooden cross but also an offering woven out of strings of seashells and coarse grass. Like many of his people, Agnes clearly embraced both the old ways and the new.
Rose looked around with wide, curious eyes as she stepped inside. “Wow,” he heard her murmur under her breath. “A real highland cottage. Elise is never going to believe this.”
Agnes waved at the two driftwood chairs by the fire—the onlyseats in the place—but Cailean remained standing, indicating the two women to take the seats instead. Rose sat in one and Agnes took the other, perching on the edge and clasping her hands in her lap, looking a little nervous.
“Well?” she asked. “What help can I give the laird and a MacFinnan spellweaver?”
Rose glanced at Cailean and he signaled for her to speak. After all, she knew what she was looking for better than he did. Rose took out the map and another rolled up parchment from the saddle bag slung over her shoulder.
“I was hoping you might help us get to the bottom of a mystery,” she said. “I’ve been trying to figure out if there is a pattern to how the sickness strikes. There seems to have been an unusual concentration of cases in Hemkirk and I’m trying to understand why.”
Agnes went a little pale, and she clasped her hands together even harder. “Isnae it obvious why?” she said, her voice cold and bitter. “It is a punishment from the Lord. We’ve angered Him. We need to repent our sins if any of us are to be saved.”
Rose’s eyes shone with compassion as she studied Agnes’s weathered face. “I’m so sorry that it hit this village so hard,” she said softly. “And I’m so sorry you lost your husband. The sickness took him, didn’t it?”
Agnes watched Rose, her eyes filling with tears, before nodding tightly. “Aye, it did. Along with over half the village. Now they all look to me for leadership but I’m just an old woman. I canna do anything! I canna help anyone!”
The façade of calm authority that she’d shown outside in front of her people cracked and now she just looked old and tired and very afraid. Rose reached out and clasped her hand.
“You’re doing just fine. But if you can help me, I’m hopeful that you won’t need to lose anyone else.”
A faint spark of hope came into Agnes’s eyes and she squeezedRose’s hand in return. Cailean crossed his arms over his broad chest and remained silent.
